One More Day: Reflections on Halloween

Priorities these days are misguided… at least mine are. I have fallen into the routine of looking forward to Friday and dreading Monday. In fact, it has become such a ritual, that people choose (wisely) not to befriend me during the week.

If this sounds a bit like a pity party, well, it is. Or it was. I am on my way to a healing passage. But, as if you weren’t already aware of my now five year old’s wisdom, this is yet another moment…. funny, because it has been said that the lessons are always there, but the student is not. Lately, I have been a masterful student…out of pure desperation for something to hold onto rather than a weekend.

Sweet Emma. On a Wednesday evening after my workday, I find her sitting, drawing, and a bit down. I ask what is wrong (I’m thinking Sponge Bob must have gone off, or perhaps Good Luck Charlie is a re-run again)…. her wisdom, however, is writing this story. ‘I’m sad mommy because I’m running out of things to wish for.’ – She goes on to say that everything she ever wanted, including the fat fudgesicles, rather than the gross popsicles (I tried to sneak sugar free pops in its place), are here. ‘What happens when you get everything you want? Should you make wishes for other people’?

Other than pride, what are you to feel? Regardless of what you might think, I felt shame. And embarrassment, and greed. My wishes are definitely of wealth, health, and did I mention wealth? Now, don’t get me wrong… I don’t feel the need, nor have I ever, to be a rich housewife of whatever city you want to choose. But, I will openly admit that working all week stinks. There. My sins have been laid out before you. I hate work. I enjoy my job, but can tell you that it is easier to work if you don’t have to. Ask any lottery winner that… uh, obviously, not me.

I wonder at what point I forgot my dreams, wishes, and goals. It wasn’t too entirely long ago that I actually still believed in my life. I still dreamed for my NYC apartment while I worked with children or did public speaking engagements… my major problem would be choosing the nanny to be at my beckon call.

Things change, times change, people change, and situations change. Dreams don’t. I still see it. I, however, also see a more realistic, unaltruistic life. Surely there is a therapy for this?

Well Monday, on Halloween, her name is Emma. On Halloween you can be anything you want to be. She, for example, is BatGirl… ( Iron Man was a close second). So for that night, I chose to be the professional mother/woman with a small seasonal apartment in NYC and a nanny in tow while I take on the world. I choose to eat all of the Snickers that Emma can’t finish and not gain one pound… I choose to NOT be the woman that regrets her life, but rather the woman that others envy. I chose one more day of fun, happiness, adventure, and joy.

Tomorrow is November 3. If, through some zombie takeover and I lose my drive to move toward the stars, I will remember that for Halloween day I was amazing. I could take on the world. And I will remember that Santa comes in a short 8 weeks….

Again, thanks Emma.

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